


Turkery: The Life and Times of the Turks.

by CynicalScribbler



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalScribbler/pseuds/CynicalScribbler
Summary: The Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department, or 'The Turks' handle the dirtier affairs of running a empire like Shinra Electric Company. There is no mission above them or below them. The rise of terrorism after Shinra won the Wutai War was ever expanding, and so too did the roles of the Turks. Heroism doesn't pay the bills.  A series of vaguely connected stories about all of the known Turks in action oriented tales.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I obviously had to start with Reno and Rude doing something. They were the ones that inspired me in the first place, Rude is a tiny bit more talkative than usual...but well it's sort of hard to do segments with him when nobody says much. Enjoy!

Costa Del Sol was the land of beautiful beaches, bikini-clad women and cheap drinks. It was also the place of gun smuggling, human trafficking, and the occasional drug deal. On the surface, it was your idyllic little resort town that had miles of beach and plenty of chances to make some very poor decisions.  
  
Reno was a walking poor decision at his best days, so Costa Del Sol was his playground on his time off. But unfortunately, he wasn’t off today: He was here for one of those very three issues…sort of.  Still, he was a regular enough that him being around in his suit wasn’t exactly a giant warning sign, which was a good thing. He tilted his sunglasses down over his eyes to block out the ever-oppressive sun and headed along main-street. He was obvious in his dark suit in a sea of spray on tans, bikinis and drunk people…but no big deal either way.  
  
He caught sight of the wooden carved woman lazing across a shell dangling above him against the light breeze. The Siren was one of his favorite bars in Costa and he was a common sight. Otherwise, he doubted Tseng would even let him do this. The Siren was a hot mess of talking, smoking, and drinking and yet it was still probably the best place to relax and enjoy a drink…but sometimes the ‘vacation’ crowd could ruin it.  
  
“Hey, Reno!” The bartender said cheerfully as Reno offered him an easy grin and shifted his sunglasses up, his eyes skirting along the crowd in the bar as he usually did. There he was: A middle aged man, graying hair…blue eyes, looked like someone who had a job in town. Not painfully obvious, but obvious enough. That was their Mister Nice Guy.

 The bartender was the kind of guy you’d expect to be at a bar on a busy street in a resort town: Older than most, knew just about everything there was to know about it and could be downright scary if he wanted to be. But Barro was a nice guy anyway.  
  
“Yo,” Reno said casually, sitting down. “Pretty big crowd you got here, Barro…popular destination this week?” he said, tapping his knuckles for a beer. Nothing fancy today, he was on the clock. Not that they needed to know that. Barro tilted his head but slid down a cold beer.  
  
“Aren’t I always?” Barro said smugly. “You get off the clock early?”  
  
“Something like that,” Reno smirked, taking a swig. Ugh, piss water. But when you wanted a burn of alcohol without any actual taste, Corel Light it was. “Anything fun happening today?”  
  
“Eh,” Barro shrugged. “Had a guy and his girl come in here and try to start something, girl got wasted on Vodka and threw up all over a table and started crying.”  
  
“Shit, that’s a mess,” Reno smirked faintly, pausing when he felt his phone vibrate. “Oh, hang on a sec-“  
  
“Sure,” Barro said easily, wiping down the rest of his bar as Reno flipped open his cellphone to rest it against his shoulder. It was Rude, but it was supposed to be Rude. Their target was someone who had been causing problems, someone who had been sniffing a little too close to places he shouldn’t, crime was impossible to root out no matter how dirty the government was, people that didn’t play ball were being dealt with and Mister Nice Guy was one of them.  
  
“Yeah?” Reno said casually.  
  
_How’s the bar?_ Rude’s deep voice rumbled against the speaker as Reno spun around lazily to drape his shoulders against the bar top, his expression bored and exasperated.   
  
“Populated, it’s still early you know.” He was here, still relaxing and talking with people. He didn’t particularly know the two men he was speaking with, but he’d remember their faces to check with them. “Come on, have a beer.”  
  
“No thanks.” He’d be outside, waiting. “Text me when you’re ready to leave, it’s hot here.” They couldn’t lose him, and Reno following him out would be some stupid rookie maneuver.  
  
“It’s always hot here,” Reno sighed dramatically. “Come on, man…you’re killin’ what little buzz I have!”  
  
“Sorry.” Rude finished lamely as Reno hung up with another long sigh, spinning back around.  
  
“Big guy causing you problems again?” Barro smirked casually as Reno noted that Mister Nice Guy had risen from his seat as he texted Rude. Well, things were going so smoothly today…when was that going to change?  
  
“Something like that,” Reno smiled. Might as well finish his beer at least.

\--

Mister Nice Guy as Reno had labeled him was, of course, the opposite of it, Rude was settled against the wall on his phone, flipping it closed as he caught sight of the man in question followed by two others as they talked. He pushed off the wall without hesitation and moved to blend into the crowd. It was true that suited men and really anyone not dressed like they were ready to puke by three in the morning were standouts, but most people were used to the paradox by now. Shinra MP’s would occasionally patrol the streets in full combat gear.  
  
But that was only the main street and a couple of offshoots that had that problem, once you got further in where actual citizens lived, it became less obvious. Rude followed along the main throughway and casually shifted to the same street they did. People going about their daily lives paid them no mind, but the thinning crowd made it more difficult for Rude to stay so inconspicuous.  
  
Rude felt a faint buzz in his pocket, not once but twice. He was on his way, so Rude cut into a nearby shop and watched Mister Nice Guy. Just like their informant had said, further down the road and to the right. He had one of the nicer places in Costa proper, where he seemed to delight in getting rich off smuggled Shinra goods and women.  
  
The problem with informants when you didn’t trust them was a different problem entirely. His routine browsing at the nearby magazine rack inside the store was momentarily halted by the arrival of three men dressed in fine suits. They looked pointedly at Rude and Rude looked back at them, grateful for the sunglasses to shield his wandering eyes.

_Shit_. Reno and his contacts, they were the shadiest bunch on the planet. They were going in mostly blind as it was, so Rude should have assumed that even their contact was dirty. For now, though…the trio of thugs in human clothes scattered throughout the store to get whatever they came for, but Rude never failed to trust his gut.   
  
He plucked out the latest edition of _Martial Mastery_ from the racks and went to pay, the young lady behind the counter giving the imposing man a kind smile that Rude returned with a faint grunt as he turned and left, magazine in hand. _Tch_ , Reno was late...he wasn’t that far away. Well, no big deal…this latest issue had the synopsis of the Mythril Fist Tournament-  
  
“Hey, baldy.” Rude arched a faint brow at that and turned, finding the three men from before with a wide smirk on each of them. “You lost or somethin’?” Their affiliation couldn’t be clearer to Mister Nice Guy, their posture, and their state of dress. They knew they were the big dogs around here.  
  
“No,” Rude said, adjusting his sunglasses lightly, he noted that the three of them became aware of the gloves he had on. Perceptive little animals, weren’t they? “I’m waiting for someone to arrive, can I help you?”  
  
“Sure, sure…” The lead dog said, rubbing his neck. “Kinda got a problem though, y’know…maybe you can help us?” Rude glanced at the either of them, their posture relaxed. Well, it was a small compliment that they didn’t look like they were about to jump him. But really, who were they fooling?  
  
“Sorry, busy.” Rude stated plainly. “You’ll have to find someone else.”  
  
“No, you see…we heard tell some creepy tall guy was walkin’ around, scarin’ the locals.” He murmured. “Boss doesn't like that, see?”  
  
“Oh?” Rude said, his voice disinterested. “It sounds like you need to find him, then.”  
  
“Looks like we did,” The lead dog leered eagerly, shifting his coat as Rude rolled up the magazine. The knife was obvious, an impressive looking knife at that. Rude glanced at the three of them before facing them properly, his rolled-up newspaper held up to give them a dismissive wave.  
  
“You should probably just turn around and walk away,” Rude cautioned. “Because I don’t warn people twice.” That didn’t seem to scare them, which was a shame…because he really wanted to read his magazine. The lead dog didn’t respond, he only drew his knife. To his credit, the draw was fast: Rude shifted his feet back a fraction and jerked to the right as the man lashed out with his sharp blade.  
  
Rude shifted inward and leaned forward in one smooth, whip like motion to smack the face of the man with his magazine, jerking him back with a confused grunt. His left compatriot charged forward in his stead, throwing a hook that was so wide that Rude thought he was trying to hit his other shoulder.  Rude shifted to his right and snapped his arm forward again to slam the magazine against his nose. His right-side assailant was already moving in with knuckle weapons.  
  
Guess playtime was over. The man charged at him with determination, his posture tight and focused as he came in and shot out a fast jab that Rude shifted to avoid. Not bad, Mister Nice Guy hired people who knew what they were doing.  Rude backpedaled easily, discarding the magazine as he settled into his fighting posture, bouncing on the toes of his feet.  
  
“Fucking…kill him!” The leader spat furiously. Humiliation clear on his face as the other two recovered. The fighter charged at him again with a roar. Rude didn’t let him get close enough to try anything: His left jab smacked right into his nose before following up with a right hook that connected with a solid _crack_ against his jaw, blood and teeth sprayed in a morbid fountain against the pavement.  
  
The knife leader rushed forward, his stance more improved as he lashed out with the knife to strike him across the chest. Rude shifted with the swing, catching his arm and tugging forward to lock it underneath his own as he slammed his knee into his gut with all the force of a hammer to a nail. The man’s eyes bulged horrendously as the knife clattered to the ground. The Turk’s eyes settled on the third man who was quickly yanking back his coat to reveal his own weapon: A handgun.  
  
He shoved the knife wielder forward, causing the third and final thug to fumble with his draw as his partner made him change position while he hit the ground in misery. Rude was on him like a dog to a duck, his draw was already up and pointing at Rude by the time he was close enough to disarm.  Rude smacked his hands together against the semi-automatic, shifting his right hand toward the man’s wrist to jerk it upward as he pushed down on the gun and yanked it away, ejecting the magazine in one smooth motion and racking the slide back to send the loaded round into the air.  
  
The man seemed stunned it happened, which was enough for Rude to grip the barrel of his stolen pistol and strike him across the face with the grip, jerking his head to the right as he hit the pavement with a groan. Rude caught the flying bullet with a sigh, glancing around as his looked at the three of the men miserable with pain.  
  
Where the _fuck_ was Reno?

Almost on cue, there was a lazy whistle as Rude turned to see his wayward partner smirking from ear to ear. “Damn, man…you fucking murdered these fools.” Reno said, nudging one with his shoe. “Who are they?” he grinned, handing Rude his wrapped magazine.  
  
“Irritable shoppers,” Rude muttered, yanking it out of his hand. “How long does it take to finish a beer, Reno?”

“As long as it takes you to beat the shit out of three guys, clearly.” The redhead replied cheerfully, scratching one of his tattoos.  “So, we’re in the right place then?” He asked casually as the MP’s were already rushing down the road. Their sense of cover had been blown in some respects, but that was fine: They didn’t really need to be too quiet anymore. “C’mon.” Reno added, heading down the road.  
  
Rude grunted in irritation but followed anyway. “What do we have on this guy?”

“Hm, quite a bit…” Reno said, clicking his tongue with an easy grin. “Our Mister Nice Guy is one Walther Koch, used to be an arms merchant for Shinra to supply local police and otherwise…you know, third party seller kinda deal…well, turns out a few months ago he started investing into the local trafficking trade and caught a pretty pearl.”  
  
“And what is the ‘pearl’ that we’re after?” Rude said curiously. He had a sneaking suspicion, but he was hoping that Reno had some level of professionalism to-nope. The flip of his phone and the picture within made it clear he had absolutely zero of that. Reno’s grin was almost as suspect as anything else. She was a beauty of a woman, long flowing blonde hair and bright green eyes and a smile that would kill any man.  
  
“Girl by the name of Vanessa…rolls of the tongue, right? She’s the daughter to one of the R&D heads, Scarlet and Heideigger have been putting daggers at Tseng’s back over this, but the good news is that Koch needs to be dealt with anyway.” He said, closing his phone to stuff it back into his coat. “So, we beat a few bad guys, get the girl, and head back to Midgar…no big deal.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Rude said flatly.  Well, he wasn’t wrong in that was the plan, but how he thought it wasn’t a big deal was beyond him. “If you say so, Reno.”  
  
“It’ll be fine,” Reno promised, patting him on the back. “I’ll sneak around and see if I can find her, and you can handle all the hard stuff.”  
  
“How generous of you,” His partner responded in turn, adjusting his glasses in irritation.  Again, he wasn’t wrong that it was generally how they worked anyway…if Reno could find Vanessa in time before anything bad happened. Finding the place wasn’t hard: You could catch peeks of it on the main road which made it easier.  Reno glanced around before smiling.  
  
“Alright,” he said confidently, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s see what I can do…you gonna be okay by yourself?”  
  
“I’ll manage,” Rude said as Reno shifted into a nearby alleyway and began his climb, using the nearby ladder to hoist up to the top.  He had quite a view from up here, the ocean was beautiful to the setting sun, the nightlife of Costa was starting to pick up as the main road filled with laughter and music. Reno moved to the edge of the current building and did a few mental calculations before he leapt and landed on the next building roof on a smooth roll, continuing his momentum to bound to the next one.  
  
Reno had to time this right, but he was usually pretty good with that. He and Rude just kind of worked together in ways that never made much sense. So, he waited a half second for the sound of shouting and took a leap across the building and the wall surrounding Koch’s house, his fingers caught the overhanging roof of the patio. It was not a graceful landing, and more like a cat desperate to not fall as he righted enough to land on his feet with a light sigh. Okay…nobody saw that, so it was fine. 

He smoothed out his jacket and cast an easy glance around before pressing against the wall to the nearby door and knocked on it with a faint little hum as he reached against his hip and drew his electro-mag rod, the weapon sliding into place with a subtle _click._

It took a moment, but the door finally swung open and out stormed a pair of men with rifles raised and sweeping along the patio. Reno stopped the door with the rubber grip of his rod and casually closed the door before making his move. The shifting of the door got their attention, but not quick enough. Reno took a step to close in and brought his rod down against the skull of his first assailant with a resounding _thunk_.  
  
He hit the ground like a sack of Gysahl Greens, the second guard turned quickly in surprise with his rifle raised. Reno pushed his gun to the side and slammed the tip of the rod against his stomach, before slamming his elbow against his temple and sending the man sprawling against the railing, breaking it open as he hit the ground face first.  
  
By the time Reno was in the house, Rude was adjusting his jacket faintly and checking the Materia on his bangle as he pressed against the side of the wall and kicked the door open. It swung open and it was met with an unrelenting hail of gunfire.  Reno was like a shark to blood, he came in low and with his Mag-Rod swinging. The horrible sound of lightning rippling through the room as the guards screamed for dear life.  
  
Rude waited a few seconds before stepping out a fraction, hearing the heavy footfalls of a wiser man to run. He stuck his arm out and the hapless guard slammed into a tree trunk throat first, he gagged horribly before his entire body recoiled and his head hit the frame of the door, knocking him out as Rude casually stepped over him.  
  
“Woo,” Reno grinned, giving his partner a thumbs up. “Nice work!”  
  
Rude grunted in response. “Go be the hero, I’m going to make sure nobody leaves.”  
  
“Got it,” he said, casting his eyes to the staircase before retracting his favored weapon and drawing his pistol out of the small of his back. A quick chamber check made sure he was ready before he moved swiftly up the stairs. Well, these first guys got lucky…but now it was time to put some fear in them.  It was a simple house, honestly…there was no real mansion to speak of. It was a nice, wide two-story house but it wasn’t a guessing game on rooms.  
  
“Koch, come on out!” Reno hummed in warning. “I don’t have time to be beating the crap out of your armed guards, armed guards are a sign of guilt, you know-“The doors swung open almost at once, and a quartet of men appeared, rifles raised. Reno clicked his tongue in irritation, the bangle on his wrist starting to glow. He waved his hand smoothly as bullets rippled across his Protect barrier and slammed into the wall behind him.  
  
“Gotta make this complicated, don’t you?” Reno muttered, letting loose two rounds that slammed into the first assailant, he hit the railing and slid down in a line of red as Reno advanced, gunfire tearing into his protect barrier.  He slid his hand out lazily, raking his hand blindly along to spray fire in return before jerking his hand back with a heavy sigh. He felt the energy curl around his fingers with a faint little smirk before he slid out and unleashed a tongue of lightning. One of the forks split a door in half and hit another guard, and caught the next one on the shoulder as he dropped his rifle. Reno advanced then, pistol raised as the man scrambled for his sidearm. Reno put three rounds in his chest as he jerked and slumped down, dead. All this for an unlucky grab, Reno wondered just who that girl’s father pissed off to traffic her. That girl had better thank her lucky stars that he was important enough to keep happy, otherwise she’d just be another statistic for someone else to deal with. Right now, it was quiet…quiet enough to know what was going on.  
  
He heard the sobbing, and the breathing as quiet as it was and the snap of metal on metal. Reno moved slowly, catching the room that the remaining guard and ever wonderful Walther Koch, with Vanessa trembling in front of her with a gun to her head. This man had good taste in wood furniture, this was probably the least gaudy person that he was going to kill lately.  
  
“Walther,” Reno said easily, gun raised as Walther pressed the pistol to her temple with a deep frown.  
  
“The fuck do you want, Turk?” Walther Koch muttered, his face heavy with sweat.  
  
“Ah, so you do know who we are…that’s good, because I was starting to wonder when Rude had to deal with some angry people in nice suits, you dress your people nice by the way.” Reno said casually. “So, here’s how this is going to go: You give me the girl and you go free.” He stated simply.  
  
He could see the question swirl around in his eyes, and the remaining guard.  
  
“…Can…can I go free?” The guard mumbled faintly. “Look, man…I didn’t sign up to fight against no Shinra, I just signed up to protect a rich man.” Well, look at that…someone who had a brain-cell. Sure, maybe two minutes ago he was getting shot at by him, but Reno honestly wasn’t going to give a shit if this job got handled the way he wanted it.  
  
“You are a fucking coward!” Walther hissed, but Reno’s sharp glance stopped him from doing anything. Normally, Reno would just put a gun to his head and be done with it…but right now he was an asset: Frankly, he was probably the smartest guy here.  
  
“Says the man hiding behind a crying girl,” Reno said casually. “You okay, Vanessa?”  
  
“I…I’m okay,” Vanessa sniffed, even if her face was pale from fear.  All of this had happened so fast, she was in Sector 8 and…and someone just grabbed her and she had no idea why she was even here, just a lot of people yelling at her and telling her how pretty she was.  
  
“Has he done anything to you?” Reno asked. She couldn’t have been much older than twenty, maybe not even that.  
  
“N…No,” Vanessa stammered, but her expression said otherwise.  
  
“Woo…you’re really in some deep shit now, aren’t you man?” Reno smirked. “Well, I guess I lied…but you can go, I like your spunk.” Reno said, thumb pointing behind him. The guard glanced at Walther for one moment before he all but dropped his weapon and bolted out behind him. Being knocked out by Rude was a better alternative than getting shot.  
  
“So,” Reno said cheerfully, grinning. “What do you sat, Walther…you going to let the girl go?”  
  
“Fuck you, you fucking Shinra pig!” Koch snarled. His finger depressing on the trigger as Reno shot forward like the lightning he had so recently cast. Vanessa tensed up horribly as and wanted to scream or cry or…do both, which is what she was currently doing. But…wait.  
  
She heard the gunshot, but...  
  
“You know,” Reno grunted in annoyance, the barrier around him starting to dispel away as the man gaped at Reno in fear. Between her temple and the barrel his glowing hand, smoke rolling off his fingers. He jerked the gun away from Walther with a shake of his hand, the mushroomed bullet falling out of his bruising hand. Vanessa took the opportunity to move far away from the two of them with a panicked breath.  
  
She…she was alive?  
  
“I really don’t have time for your shit anymore,” Reno said flatly, smoothly extending his mag rod to slam it against his throat. Walther gagged in horror as Rude headed up the steps, glancing to Reno and the girl.  
  
“Vanessa,” Rude murmured. “Come here, you don’t want to see this.” He assured, motioning for her to follow. Vanessa glanced to Rude and then Reno, who offered her a remarkably cheerful grin. She returned it…somewhat, but that look on his face made her blood run cold as she turned to follow rude out.  
  
“So!” Reno said easily. “Let’s run by all the ways you’ve fucked up, mm?” he said, while Walther was currently clutching his throat and gagging to breathe on the floor. “First…you stole something that wasn’t yours,” he said, prodding him gently with his Electro-Mag Rod with only just a little zap to make him twitch. “More than that…you didn’t check your fucking backgrounds to see if that girl was something important…do you even know what you stole, you stupid shit? You took the daughter of one of our R&D engineering chiefs.”  
  
Ooh, that look in his eyes was funny. He really had no fucking clue, did he?  Reno pushed his face to the side and worked the lever on his rod with his finger to localize the shock as he pressed it against his cheek. The skin started to sizzle, Walther huffed, gripping the staff to try and push it away…but Reno was remarkably strong for being so wiry.  
  
“Next…you had a nice little thing going here, didn’t you? We were ignoring your little drug parties and your cute weapon deals because we had no reason to break it up, but you are causing us a lot of problems now.” He purred, the skin around Walther’s cheek started to split as the heat continued to dig into his skin. His cries were picking up now before Reno pulled away and the man sobbed in relief.  
  
“I…I didn’t know!” Walther promised, his face already swollen before Reno spun around and slammed his Rod across his face. Blood and teeth splattered across the floor as he slumped down. Reno knelt in front of him, gripping his greasy hair in disgust.  
  
“You don’t know shit anyway…so why are you acting like you have any idea, man?” Reno grinned, shoving his head away before rising. “See, now we have to make an example out of you…people think they can start causing problems for Shinra means we got more work, and I’m real lazy these days, see?” he said, turning the dial on his Mag-Rod as lightning arced across it. The arms dealers’ face lit up in fear.  
  
“So,” he grinned, his wild look illuminated by the dance of lightning. “Time to show people what we do.”

\--

Shinra MP was on the scene at Rude’s call, most of them were probably excited for something to do and people to arrest. Vanessa was given a blanket and something to drink, but she could honestly have been worse for wear…Reno’s unreliable sources were accurate at least.  He crossed his arms as he overlooked the scene.  The Turks: Shinra’s worst kept secret.  
  
“Not bad, eh?” Reno interjected easily, hands laced behind his head with his eyes half lidded. “She doing okay?”  
  
“She’ll live,” Rude murmured, casting a glance to his partner.  “You?”  
  
“Eh,” Reno shrugged faintly. “Nothing I won’t get yelled at for,” he said easily, showing his bruised hand with a faint grin. “Took a bullet for a lady, romantic, right?”  
  
“Hmph,” Rude responded tacitly. “Let’s go home, I’m tired of Costa already.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Reno said cheerfully, heading over to the girl to offer his bruised hand. “Come on, girl…you need to get home, we’ll take the chopper.”  
  
“I…thank you,” Vanessa stammered. “Are…you guys really Turks?” She couldn’t believe anyone would come to save her, weren’t Turks supposed to be bad and scary? Rude adjusted his glasses while Reno offered her that same friendly grin from before, but now she had no idea how to take it.  
  
“Maybe you’ll find out if I take you to dinner?” he said easily.  
  
Vanessa blinked at Reno in surprise, looking to the larger man for some silent clue. Rude tilted his head faintly, lips pursed in displeasure and she swallowed in return. It was an interesting prospect, but if they were actually Turks…well, that sounded really dangerous and she was already not okay with the danger she had experienced already.  
  
“…No thanks,” Vanessa mumbled. “Can we go home now?”  
  
“…Sure.” Reno sighed.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”  
  
He got his ride out into the sunset, but not the Hero saving the Princess? This job was far too cruel sometimes.


	2. Executive Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bored with his desk work for the time being, Tseng decides to stretch his legs on a case Anti-Shinra rebels that turn a little more complicated...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to write something with Tseng, I always felt like he was this silent badass that never got to do anything cool because of plot reasons. Finding what he was good at was somewhat hard, but I hope I did him justice.

President Shinra liked to give addresses to the news that Midgar was a hallmark of safety and security, that the people were content and happy and the ‘outliers’ were the reason that the slums could be so dangerous.  It never really changed the outcome: People believed what they wanted to believe and Tseng was not so close minded as to not understand their outcry, but the result was that he was on one side and they were on the other.  
  
He never really viewed things as a black and white concept, not really: He saw it as a shade of gray, but his black and white was his team. It was his job to make sure the mission succeeded, but it was also his job to make sure everyone came home safely. It was the mindset that he inherited from Veld, and the mindset that he carried while hanging upside down in an overturned L-ATV. Slowly, he opened his eyes as the sound came rushing back to his ears. He could see the glass spider-webbed in front of him and the glint of bullet casings further on. He curled his toes and flexed his hands for faint confirmation of injuries: Nothing serious, but everything _hurt._  
  
The occasional pop of nearby gunfire told him that they weren’t out of the woods yet. He shifted his shoulders for a moment before putting his hand on the roof as he unclipped his seatbelt and carefully shifted down on his heels with a light grunt. He felt a throbbing pain against his ribs, and a faint shift made him hiss lightly. Not broken, but not exactly pleasant either. Tseng curled his fingers around the door lever and twisted, gently nudging it open with his shoulder to pick up the sound of footsteps and gunfire. They were expecting an ambush. He pressed a finger to the comm against his inner ear.  
  
“Alpha One and Two, Status?”  
  
_Alive but a little bruised, sir._

_One of us took a graze, but we’re at full capacity._

The military police were questionable, at best…but the professionally trained military was a force to be reckoned with. They were driving into a trap, which is why he had opted to take the front car alone. The cargo they were transporting was not of major consequence: small-arms and ammo, but Tseng had noticed that these rebels weren’t being precise: They were likely desperate. Still, desperation could breed a very dangerous force. Attaching a Turk to that convoy would make it seem like a grand target, as if they had gotten lucky.  
  
“Hold for signal.” Tseng murmured, shoving his shoulder against the door to finally open it. He supposed he would have to thank Heidegger and Scarlet for wanting overengineered and highly protective military vehicles. He got out slowly, casting a glance around the ruined landscape and to the overturned L-ATV that had a giant burnt mark where the IED had went off. It was still smoking, he had to give them credit for being tenacious like this, and bold. They were miles away from an actual settlement, and they had the perfect view on both sides as well as front and back.  
  
He smoothed out his suit firmly, unbuttoning the jacket as the Anti-Shinra rebels came out in squads, orders were barked to check the other two carriers. He appreciated Alpha One and Two for being willing to come along on something like this, he didn’t know if it was faith in the equipment or him, but he would remember to show his gratitude at the end of this.   


“Don’t move,” The man warned as the squad spread out, four of them.  One directly in front, two to his side and one on his back. Tseng calmly kept his hands up. “Ryan, check the back.” The man ordered as the man behind him shifted to open the doors.  
  
_Sir?_ Alpha One chimed, as the Rebels began to open the doors. The timing had to be just right, or otherwise the surprise would be gone.

“Go,” Tseng said easily.  The man staring Tseng down arched a brow at him, before Tseng’s arms came down in a blur. He smacked away the gun barrel and drew from the waist, his draw tight and fast as he squeezed the trigger. The man jerked back in surprise from the sudden gutshot before Tseng raised up his pistol and put a round in his head as he stumbled back and hit the pavement. Gunfire roared out of the two carriers as the squads came out, hurling their smoke grenades.    
  
Tseng shifted quickly. Bending his arm back and angling his gun to the right to fire twice at his second guard in the chest.  He could already hear the shouting and retaliatory fire, was this close to their hideout, then? He was about to turn and shoot his last guard, but the man was already jerking toward the ground and hit it with a wet smack, blood pooling from the open wound on his head as Alpha One moved forward, stuffing the empty magazine into his vest to smack a fresh one in.  
  
“Sir,” Alpha One said, racking the charging handle of his rifle. “We’ve established a perimeter, our recon is picking up signatures coming from every direction…numbers unconfirmed, maybe twenty?”  He had to appreciate the military in these situations, Shinra’s desire to maintain a strong force kept professionalism high.  
  
“As we expected,” Tseng murmured. “What is the status of our L-TAVs?”  
  
“Drivable, sir,” he promised. “Yours is the only one to have taken such a strong hit, I don’t think we have the time to get it righted up again.”  
  
“Agreed,” he said, glancing to the other two carriers. “My carrier contained most of the supplies, correct? Keep it here, fall back.” He ordered casually, heading to the next vehicle in the convoy.   
  
“Sir?” Alpha One said as they walked to the nearby L-TAV in surprise. “Wasn’t the plan to stop them?”

“We will,” he promised easily. It would be cramped, but he would deal with it. It was probably quite the contrast to see a suited man surrounded by others clad in tactical gear from head to toe. It was only the first step…but it was an important one. They had come out in the open and that gave them a scent to follow. For now, they would wait.

\--

Five hours had passed since they had retreated, it had left two squads of men and women a little irritated with Tseng, but he would deal with it. They had decided not to go back to the surface, but the information they had gotten in return was solid: the drone had followed the cargo to its intended location. The intended location, however…was rather surprising, or maybe it shouldn’t have been. He pursed his lips in displeasure as he looked over the data on the PDA, tossing it to Alpha One and Alpha Two.  
  
“Well,” Alpha Two said, glancing to her compatriot. “I guess not everyone is as much of a snitch as Don Corneo.”

\--

Not every slum had a ‘Don Corneo’, but there was usually someone similar. Shinra couldn’t police the slums as well as they could the plate, and if the entire slums weren’t on fire they turned a blind eye. Some of them were problems more than others, Sector Eight’s ‘Don’ needed replacement if this was what was happening.  
  
Sector Eight was the entertainment sector of Midgar, so it only made sense that the Slums would be some twisted joke of that. Tseng entered alone, his eyes noticing the dizzying array of neon signs that seemed to dominate the eyes. Men and women lazily settled against the street corners in a way that would make the Honey Bee Inn seem docile because most of them weren’t wearing much. There was music, there was sex…there was probably a theater or two that used illegally found movies, but none of that mattered if Shinra got their cut.

Rosa ‘The Ripper’ was not a friend of Shinra, far from it. But she was not an enemy either, while it would be an easy way for Tseng to simply wave her away and replace her with someone else it wasn’t so simple to find people willing to talk with the Turks for information: You kept out of their playground and they’d feel more compelled to speak up if something happens. Alpha One and Two were more than a little agitated that they had to wait, but it was bad enough that they were there in the first place.  
  
He glanced up at the overlooking estate of Rosa, which was as much of a mansion as anything else could be here. It suited Rosa’s personality much like the Honey Bee was Don Corneo’s personal testament to his lust: Rough and put together with whatever worked.  The doorman glanced at him casually, palms resting on the pommel of his sword.  
  
“You got an appointment, Turk?” he asked gruffly, regarding him.  
  
“No,” Tseng said casually in turn. “Do I need one?” There was a heavy silence then, almost as if Tseng was a trespasser, which was interesting: When was Rosa turning away Turks?  But he nudged his head all the same and Tseng stepped inside.  
  
Immediately, he knew a difference. The atmosphere had changed, and he unbuttoned his jacket casually. Rosa’s home was not one that bled hostility, it was one that reminded you of walking into a pack of wolves: If you were respectful, they would never bite. But this felt more like sharks looking for blood.

Tseng admittedly did not go out much because of his job, but he found that establishing a rapport with contacts was a vital tool, and he often did it himself.  But he knew that Rosa’s position was not like the others: She established her sense of power through dominance and fear of stepping out of line. He didn’t know who could properly challenge that claim, but he wasn’t going to wait long to find out. Two men who had been lounging comfortably on the nearby couches rose to eye the Turk warily, their knives prominently shown on their waist. These were not Rosa’s men either, that much he knew.  
  
“You got some business here, Turk?” One of them asked sharply.  
  
“Yes, I do…someone seems to be responsible for stealing Shinra property,” he explained casually. “I would like an explanation and the stolen goods returned, please.” They both looked amused, glancing at one another before shrugging their shoulders.  
  
“Hey! Boss!” The man called. “Some Turk is here asking about the stolen property!” That seemed to rile the entire place, these were not Rosa’s men and nor was Rosa coming. That much was clear by the arrival of a tall, lanky man with a wild grin and the most obnoxious orange and pink fur lined coat that he had ever seen. He would never understand slum fashion.   
  
“Can’t say I know anything about them,” The tall man said easily, arms draping over the railing. “Oh, allow me to properly introduce myself, Mister Suit: The Baron…at your service.” He said, as more of his men arrived to eye him.  
  
“Odd first name,” Tseng commented faintly, making that lanky face twitch in mild displeasure. “Where is Rosa?”

  
“Don’t worry about her,” Baron said, licking his lips faintly. “I know all about your little partnership with her, Turk…round here we don’t like that kind of interaction, you Shinra filth keep coming down here and suckin’ away what little joy we have.”  
  
“Oh?” Tseng said flatly. “So, you’re the one who took over? What a shame, I was hoping someone with class and respect would be taking over, I guess she wasn’t as good as I expected.”  
  
“You got a lot of nerve, I beat the bitch bloody, you hear?!” He snapped as his men moved forward, drawing their wicked knives, thin and curved. “We were the Pit dogs, we fought for her sick amusement and we got _shit_ for it! Now I’m the leader and I don’t want no fuckin’ Turk sniffin’ around my territory!”  
  
“So, she’s still alive then?” Tseng said casually. “Then my business with you is done, take me to her and I’ll keep you alive.”  
  
“You think you’re so hot, don’t you?” Baron muttered. “Fuck this, kill him! We’ll send his head to Shinra’s doorstep and they’ll know not to fuck with me!” he roared. “Five-Hundred Thousand Gil to whoever brings me that Turk’s head!” Baron ordered, turning to leave. Tseng could guess where: Rosa was obviously alive, and Baron was out to fix that problem. Perhaps it was a good thing he got bored after all.  
  
He eyed the crowd curiously, hand settling on his holstered pistol. They were Pit fighters then, they knew how to handle themselves in a thick melee and he was seriously outnumbered. That would make them overconfident and give him a movement advantage. He cracked his neck faintly, eyes narrowing as they charged at him with a blood-curdling roar.  Tseng backpedaled, pistol drawn smoothly and close. Two shots to the chest. They moved in like a horde of coyotes, circling around to trap him in a ring of steel.  
  
“You think you can kill all of us, Turk?” One of them bearing a wicked scar across his face leered. “Fucking bury you in knives, you scum! You’re the reason we’re like this!”  
  
“Prove it,” Tseng challenged, handgun nearly against his chin in an angled grip.  They were fearless and did not hesitate to rush in and Tseng moved forward, the wave shifting with him as he angled his gun down and blew out a knee with a shot, swinging his elbow to crash against the man’s jaw and send him to the ground.  He moved with his turn and weaved to the right, tilting his gun to the left. Three shots that hit three chests. He didn’t need to aim this close. He felt movement behind him and shifted, his glance only for a second as his elbow lashed out and slammed into the nose of an attacker. Another fighter took advantage of the temporary lapse and moved forward, Tseng jabbed his gun against his forehead to create space and settled his gun close again as he fired at the throat in a spray of blood and a pained gurgle.  
  
The group was at a standstill, their tactics changed. He felt a hand grab his ankle and he reacted on instinct, pivoting around in a kneel and putting the gun to his head to fire. Tseng rose his gun at a left angle close to the face and squeezed the trigger: A kneecap from a rushing man that came towards him exploded in a spray of red, he screamed in fury and angled his fall with his daggers. Tseng rose and weaved to the side, taking a half step and pivot to put one into the back of the assailants’ head before keeping his gun trained on the men in front of him. The numbers had thinned considerably since most of them were now dead. He had more room to maneuver now as he relaxed his stance somewhat.  
  
There was no point in talking, so he made his way towards the stairs with the remaining quartet of men eying him warily, knives still in hand. Whatever the case was, they didn’t have much choice when the doors opened again to the arrival of Alpha One and Two and their squads, with the door guard broken and bruised behind them.  
  
“Secure the building,” Tseng ordered smoothly, ejecting his magazine to smack a fresh one in. “Secure everyone that complies, Rosa is our top priority, everyone else is expendable.”  
  
“Yes sir,” Alpha Two said, motioning to her squad to follow as they split up and left the irritable men handcuffed and laying on the ground.  Tseng was not familiar with this ‘Baron’, but he was familiar with Rosa’s mansion.  Rosa was not a damsel in distress, however, she was a lion stuck in a cage. Tseng would just need to wiggle the bars for her.  He headed down the hallway with purpose, making a quick check on the rooms to ensure they were clear. This rebellion must have been quick and to the point, maybe Baron had some influence with some notable Pit fighters, it seemed like a remarkably empty mansion compared to Rosa’s time.  
  
His body tensed up when he heard shouting and the heavy _thump_ against the wall. Tseng took off into a sprint down the hall, pistol raised in preparation: As he thought, Rosa’s room. She probably wasn’t going to enjoy being rescued by someone from Shinra, so he’d have to play this carefully-

Or maybe not, when the door splintered and gave way to the giant mass that was The Baron, with Rosa on top of him mid swing of her fist as they hit the ground together.  Tseng lowered his pistol after a moment, cocking his head as he holstered his gun. Rosa was five feet, six inches of pure terror given the form of a woman: She lacked any kind of formal training but she possessed an instinctual drive that would make most of their professional soldiers envious. Her dark hair was always cut short, and she had a wild tattoo that seemed to carry up to her hairline and all the way down to her ankle on the right side. It was somewhat fascinating to see in almost full glory…because she wasn’t wearing much more than a bra and underwear. Baron was likely trying to mark territory, or maybe Rosa got caught off guard?  
  
It seemed that she had things well in hand, maybe just not soon as Tseng would have liked.  
  
“Don’t. You. Ever. Do. This. _Again._ ” Rosa snarled, every word enunciated by a brutal punch to his face. By the middle of the sentence, blood was starting to splatter against her knuckles before she stopped, and Baron’s face was a pulpy mess as he struggled to get the terror off him, wheezing lightly in pain.   
  
“Rosa,” Tseng finally said. “I think he’s got the point.”  
  
“Fuck if he has,” Rosa said, slamming his head down on the floor. “You think you can disrespect me like this, you stupid fucking shit!?” she spat, gripping him by the collar of his obnoxious coat. “You’re lucky I don’t rip your fucking eyes out and make you eat them-“  
  
“Rosa,” Tseng added faintly. “We need to talk.”  
  
“Course we do,” Rosa said, finally dropping Baron with a disgusted grunt as she finally rose to stare at him, her blue eyes a storm of anger. “Now is a bad time, Tseng.”  
  
“So it seems,” he said dryly, crossing his arms. “Do you know anything about a shipment of arms that passed through Sector Five slums recently?”  
  
“No,” Rosa frowned, hands on her hips. “What? You think I fucking did it?”  
  
“Maybe not you,” he said, glancing down to Baron. “But the people that stole it have brought them to Sector Eight, I see you’re somewhat occupied.”  
  
“Now we’re gonna be more occupied,” Rosa muttered as Alpha One and Two finally moved to join Tseng, glancing at the scene in mild bewilderment.  
  
“…Rosa, sir?” Alpha One said, head cocked faintly to admire the muscular back as she turned to grab Baron by his hair. This was the contact that Tseng trusted over anyone else in Sector Eight? Guess he had emotion like a human being, after all, he certainly was looking.  


“Rosa,” Tseng confirmed. “Did you find the supplies?”  
  
“Yes sir,” Alpha Two said, her tone a little drier. “Assuming you want to look at them yourself, sir.”  
  
The implication was not lost on Tseng, but he chose to ignore it.  
  
“Hey, whatever this fuck did isn’t on me,” Rosa said firmly. “I didn’t order shit, Tseng…you know I wouldn’t do that bullshit to have you breathe down my neck.”  
  
“I am aware, Rosa,” Tseng assured easily. “However, I cannot return empty handed either.”  
  
“Fine,” Rosa said, thumb pointing to the unconscious Baron. “Take him, he ain’t my concern anymore after this bullshit he pulled.”  
  
“That is acceptable,” Tseng said, motioning for Alpha One and Two to drag the man. “How did this happen?”  
  
“Stupidity is how it happened,” Rosa said flatly. “Baron got a bunch of weak little pukes to think they had a nice idea by jumping me while my people were out doing real work, I told them to stay out of it and wait until someone showed up…didn’t figure you would, but I knew someone from Shinra would stop by…” She smirked, hands on her hips. “I’m kind of flattered, Tseng…shame you’re a fucking snitch guy, otherwise I’d repay you.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind for later,” Tseng said faintly. “I’m glad I could help in some small way, I trust our communication isn’t an issue then?”  
  
“Nah,” she grinned. “Come by sometime when you want to loosen up, I’ll show you a good time.” He was always so stiff and rigid, was he even into women?  
  
“Noted,” Tseng said faintly. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.”  
  
“Sure,” Rosa said passively. “Make sure you tell your bigwigs that I kissed your ass properly.”  
  
“Of course,” Tseng said with a passive wave as he headed back to join Alpha One and Two with a light sigh. Rosa gave him so many shades of Reno that it was deeply uncomfortable dealing with her, he didn’t really like the image of a sexually predatorial woman coming after him. The glances from Alpha One and Two made it seem as such.  
  
“What?” Tseng said irritably as both glanced away.   
  
“Nothing at all, sir,” Alpha One assured easily. “We’re securing our stolen goods as we speak, shall we go?” Tseng nodded, rubbing his temples faintly with a light exhale. He should have had more than one cup of coffee today…  



	3. Elena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Elena's first real jobs as a Turk goes a little sideways...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was actually more of a challenge than I was expecting, especially because Elena kind of has a bit of a one sided personality. I was trying something new, without hopefully ruining her character too much. As always, thanks for reading!

The arid smell of gunpowder, the groan of wounded and the faint feeling of her own suit compressing down on her. Her target was face down, her hand keeping his head mashed against the dirty pavement with her weapon in hand. Her breathing was catching, and she grabbed Sturm by the collar of his shirt and dragged him up to his feet to shove him forward, barrel pressed against his neck.  
  
“Move!” she ordered harshly, eyes narrowed in warning.

\--

She had trained hard for the moment to wear the suit, she had studied everything she could get her hands on. She knew martial arts, she knew the operation of so many firearms that she didn’t often remember the name but knew the muscle memory. She would make Emma feel like she was a useless sack next to her! She had to, there was no other way she could deal with being on the job with her sister otherwise!  
  
“You have remarkable scores, Elena.” Tseng said casually, sitting down her file as Elena stood at ease in front of his desk. “The Five Emblems from the Academy, your aptitude with hand to hand, explosives…I can go on, but it’s clear you have a very well-rounded skillset.”  
  
“Thank you, sir,” Elena smiled proudly, feeling warmth radiate from her very being. “I have done my best, so I can be of use to Shrina.”   
  
“I can see that,” Tseng assured. “So, what are you good at?” Elena paused at that, glancing at Tseng’s face for some kind of…anything. He simply returned her blank expression with a light arch of his brow.  
  
“I have clearly shown through the tests that-“   
  
“Clearly,” Tseng murmured. “But I’m not asking you to tell me your test results, Elena…I’m asking you to tell me what you’re good at, what makes you good enough to be a Turk? What skill do you bring besides competency? What makes you an ideal choice over someone else?”    
  
…She had nothing. Her accomplishments were on the file, but they weren’t enough. She felt embarrassment creeping up on her chest and she had to swallow down the rising feeling of _failure_ that was struggling to settle in.  What could she tell him?  
  
“Sir,” Elena said, clearing her throat. “I have spent every moment I could to reach this place, to speak with you because I want to be here, I want to be under your command and I want to show you that I will never fail you, I will never doubt your orders and I will…I will become the best agent the Turks have ever seen.” She said seriously, staring at him. “There will be nobody as dedicated, committed and as focused as I am. _Nobody._ ”

\--

Tseng had tasked her with a target: William Sturm of the R&D Department, supposedly he had begun to get a bit of a conscience with his work and had been forwarding firearm development plans to the various rebel groups in Midgar. That wasn’t a particularly hard task, because it seemed like every other day there was another group or band of rebels trying to undermine Shinra’s day to day activities.  She was to capture him if possible and return him for interrogation.  
  
But as glamorous as the job sounded, Elena spent most of it casing an apartment complex in Sector One. She felt a little…underwhelmed that Tseng would personally ask her to watch someone until something illegal happened, but she had faith that Tseng had assigned her to this for a reason. Although, as much as she felt like a preening cat at being chosen, she was starting to feel like this task was given to her not because she was highly qualified to be on the Turks…but more like she was new and everyone else was busy.

Maybe she could have waited, but Tseng trusted her to do this her way. Her way was laced with doubts and wondering what _Emma_ would do in these situations and doing the exact opposite almost every time, but she was an older woman and wiser. She had been taught tactics and warfare by the brightest of Shinra Academy could offer. She was past the stubborn recklessness of a little sister staring at the back of her elder with spite.  Or so she thought.

William Sturm was a low man on the totem pole which didn’t mean anything relevant to her search, it wasn’t as if he was being subtle and complicated about it. She just wanted to make sure, Tseng gave her the time she needed until she decided to follow him one day. She had heard enough phrasing and code words to parse what he was saying in the comfort of his room on his burner cellphone.  It was bold to do it on the upper plate, but not every rebel was some low rent slum-thug.  It made it much easier for William to be out and about with nobody the wiser; Shinra employees were very common around Sector One.

She knew that not every illicit act was some shadowy act with paranoid people looking in every direction and some stonefaced bad guy looking him down, but she had to admit that she was surprised that he was following a rather confident walking traitor.  She had to assume that he knew, otherwise she would get overconfident and get caught. She was not expecting to stop at an outside café and sit a few tables back to order a coffee.  It seemed like he was waiting for someone and Elena was doing her best in acting like she was there for the coffee.  
  
He saw her, though. It was impossible for him not to, because his contacts had come in the same way she did as she was gently blowing from her cup of hot coffee.  Her brown eyes locked with his for only a moment as his contacts walked past and she sipped her coffee. She returned his gaze as any random stranger would for a short time before resuming her lazy gaze around the café. _Shit._  
  
If he knew, then that meant his contacts would know. That could change things. How much of a priority would she be when they got up? Would they even risk doing something? She had to assume yes on every account or this would get ugly.

\--

It was a strange little thing presented in front of her, the operation of it was easy to tell. It was based after the standard issue Shinra rifle, but much smaller. It couldn’t have been more than twenty inches all together, with a little knobby grip. It looked more like a pistol than anything else. Everyone was given a weapon, it was as symbolic as wearing the suit that she now felt the burden of her duty from.  She held up the weapon curiously, fingers running along the short spike bayonet. It was…wholly unique and that was mildly fascinating to someone who always had to have their boxes checked. There was the small, childish notion that _Emma_ didn’t get a gift personally from Tseng.  
  
“This is less of a weapon and more of a tool,” Tseng said, noticing Elena’s perplexed expression.  A tool?   
  
“Wouldn’t a rifle or…a pistol be better, sir?” Elena frowned.   
  
“Perhaps, in the same vein that Emma or Freya would be a more specialized choice,” Tseng mused, fingers linked together on his desk to regard her. “You have potential, Elena…it is up to you to decide where that potential goes…this weapon is like you, only used well with the right intent.” Elena glanced back down at the weapon again, settling it in her hand comfortably. She had never considered a weapon anything more than that: a weapon.  But it was her potential?  
  
She would make sure the weapon saw every ounce of her at her best, then.

**\--**

Nothing happened, maybe they were smarter than that. Maybe they were just used to the fact that Shinra employees were always around here. Either way, Elena was more interested in the moment at her Nibelhiem roast (that she doubted was anywhere near Nibelheim) that had a bitter, heavy taste to it. Of course, even that was ruined by the feeling of a body behind her…and a hand on her shoulder.  
  
Male, definitely…had the scent of someone from the lower plates as she sat her coffee cup down and kept her eyes forward.  Shit, she had walked right into it, hadn’t she?  There was more of them, there had to be.  
  
“I hope you realize who you’re touching,” Elena replied evenly.  The man behind her snickered faintly.  
  
“A little girl in a suit?” She could have handled it better, in retrospect. “You got no business here, Turk…think you better get your drink and go somewhere els-“The sudden shift of movement caught him off guard, her chair jerking back and slamming right into his groin with a pained huff when she rose.  
  
If she had a pistol, she could have drew it…but she didn’t need one. She gripped his fingers and twisted as the tell-tale _pop_ of the fingers joints sounded and she turned, moving his arm behind his back and slamming him face first into the table so hard that the legs gave out and they landed on the cement sidewalk, red spraying across the grey as she mashed her knee against his arm.  
  
She could have handled that better.

\--

She didn’t have a father, more like she had a slave driver. Emma this, Emma that. If Elena was older and wiser maybe she could have seen that it wasn’t any more Emma’s fault as it was their father. He always had high expectations and never wanted his daughters to be anything but the best at what he wanted them to do. Over time, it didn’t matter what Emma felt or acted like to her…she hated her. She hated everything about her, she hated how she was always compared to her no matter what she did.

She wasn’t ‘Elena’ to anyone, she was ‘Emma’s sister’. She was the little girl playing at her big sister’s games, she had never been a little girl. She had never played with toys or had ‘fun’ like the others did, she found it fun to learn and train because it made her father proud. She would look at the others with resentment and bitterness and wonder how their families could even let them do that. It didn’t really settle until later that her father was, in fact a terrible human being and her sister was not the root cause…and yet the resentment remained.

_You should be more like Emma, she’s an excellent shot._  When she wanted to study martial arts instead.

_You should stop thinking about toys and get back to studying, it’s time you stopped acting like a little girl, Elena._ When the holiday season rolled around and for once, she wanted something that everyone else had to act like she could fit in.

_You got the Five Emblems, but are you a Turk?_ Not even being the very best at the Academy could please him. She wished she could have said she felt something at his funeral, but she felt nothing. If anything, she felt a release and a relief. He wasn’t there anymore to judge her, he wasn’t there anymore to compare her to Emma. He wasn’t there to make her seem insignificant for wanting to be different.  
  
How ironic it was that she wanted to join the Turks to prove to herself and to Emma that she could reach every height she could, and more.

\--

The atmosphere changed the moment Elena had put that poor sap to the pavement, and she knew it the moment it happened. She felt her neck go hot with embarrassment and anger, so _stupid!_ All eyes were on them, and it became clear to Elena that she had ruined any pretense of cover that she could have had.  The table with Sturm and his contacts looked over and Elena’s eyes slid to either side of them, she didn’t need to though as she could already see men moving from inside the café.  
  
The door opening was enough for her to draw her weapon from her coat. It wasn’t a perfect draw, but the weight had become a familiar friend to her when she drew it and fired twice, the starfish shaped muzzle flash was brilliant in the hazy night as the man went down at the door and people scattered for cover and started screaming.  
  
She pivoted around, her knee still firmly in place on the man’s arm and shifted her left hand to the forearm of her weapon. Sturm was running, and his contacts were drawing their weapons. She rose up and fired, catching the first man in the chest as he tumbled over his chair and hit the ground. The man beneath her was trying to take advantage of the distraction, but she simply lowered her weapon to his head and pulled the trigger as she rose up.  
  
She couldn’t let him get away, and she wouldn’t! She was two long strides to their table as the second man had his sword drawn and was advancing. She blocked with her forearm and parried the blade to the side. Her weapon was smaller, which made it much easier to regain her position and ram the bayonet into his gut and twist, ripping it out as he was pushed aside in one smooth motion in a spray of blood from his stomach.  
  
Sturm didn’t know what hit him when Elena slammed into him and they hit the ground together. She was so stupid, she had made this so much worse than it needed. But she wasn’t going to let Tseng down…not after all this confidence he had put in her! She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, angling her weapon so the barrel mashed against his neck and the bloody bayonet pressed against the side.   
  
“Move!” she ordered harshly as they started to walk, quickly tapping the earpiece on her right.

_Callsign Midas, I need immediate exfiltration in Sector One, Coordinates One ACD, Four Three Six Two Two One Seven Nine Four. Possible hostiles-_  
  
Possible was not possible, it was fact. Gunfire rippled behind her and she shoved Sturm into a nearby alleyway with her as she pressed against the wall. Sturm was being remarkably compliant, which didn’t sit well with her.

_Copy that, Midas…Alpha Four Enroute, ETA Four Minutes._  
  
“I didn’t think a Turk could be so stupid,” Sturm finally muttered. “Did you not notice anything? Sector One is the playground of these rebels, they were watching you the whole time.”  
  
“Didn’t work out too well for them, did it?” Elena muttered. Okay, Elena…think. The alleyway isn’t a good place, she gave the coordinates within a ten-meter radius, so she had room to move if she needed to, but a quick glance out of her cover told her that they knew she was here and she could hear the rumble of vehicles that wasn’t her Calvary.  
  
God dammit, she understood why they couldn’t just uproot every single layer of dissent and stamp it out, but this was getting ridiculous.  No time to think about it though, she grabbed Sturm by the hair and forced him back up as he hissed in pain.  
  
“Move,” she ordered, shoving him forward. “I doubt these people give any care that you live or die, Sturm.” She knew a place they could go, considering she had obsessively studied every inch of Sector One in preparation for this mission.  
  
“Not like Shinra is going to care when they have me,” Sturm replied in turn as they exited the alleyway at the opposite side.  “I know my time is up, Turk…so just kill me and end it.” Why was everyone a fatalist these days? She supposed you had to be when you knew the kind of things that Shinra did to its employees. That was part of the job, though.  
  
“Not my job,” Elena replied coolly. “Besides, you should have thought about that before you turned traitor, if it bothers you so much then you should have tried to end it earlier.” Of course, he said nothing…because he acted like he knew the reality, but he wanted something else. He could have drawn a gun on her, he could have given her a reason, but he didn’t.  Their walk wasn’t too far away, but that didn’t stop Elena from making him hurry up to their location: An old shipping warehouse that was currently abandoned.   
  
They had to cross the road, which meant they had been spotted. She should have known the lights that caught her were the rebels, but she shoved Sturm into the warehouse with her and slammed the door shut with her foot. Stupid, stupid plan…  
  
“You actually have any idea what you’re doing?” The man muttered as she forced him up the stairs.  Yes, she did, but she almost couldn’t blame him for thinking this haphazard idea. Elena took a glance around the second-floor office and shoved him along until they found an open door.  
  
“Stay down,” she ordered, reaching into her belt to produce a pair of mythrill handcuffs to clamp around his wrists and shove him on the ground. “Unless you want to die, anyway.”  
  
“And what are you going to do?” Sturm said warily. She hadn’t truly paid much attention to Sturm, but for once he sounded almost afraid of the reality that seemed to Thirty-eight years old, and he could have had a cushy job for the rest of his life, what made him change his mind? Was it some kind off altruistic heart or was it just greed? Now wasn’t the time to ask him that anyway.  
  
“Make sure we’re not dead by the time our exfil gets here,” Elena said, checking the magazine in her weapon before stuffing it in her belt and tugging out the thirty rounder from the small of her back and smacking it in. “So, you better think up about a hundred different reasons why Shinra would keep you alive before they get here.” She said firmly. Elena could hear them getting out of their vehicles and already piling in.  
  
She kept low and headed out of the office with a faint huff. Sometimes, she didn’t understand her job…but that wasn’t her place to complain. He’d be better off dead, she doubted someone like him would ever talk.   
  
“Check the offices!” She heard.  
  
“They could have gone out back! Surround the place!” She kept low and near the stairwell, finger tapping on the outside of the trigger guard as she heard the heavy footsteps of men and women going up the stairs. What were her options? Her experience and her Materia against a much bigger group. Maybe if she wasn’t so damn stupid, she could have avoided all this…but she could beat herself up later.  
  
She didn’t exactly have the dominant position where she was, the first person who walked up the stairs would see her, so she had to be very careful on her timing. She could hear a line of heavy footsteps moving up the metal steps and she exhaled lightly to focus. The man that came up had a rifle in hand, and he barely had glanced in her direction before Elena was moving forward. She heard the shout, but it didn’t matter. She would be dead to rights if he looked any farther to his right.

Two shots to the side as the man jerked faintly against the railing and Elena shoved him down, raising her weapon up with both hands as she unleashed a hail of gunfire. The man she just shot was rewarded with another round that tore through his nose and her muzzle went slightly higher as she caught the woman behind him in the throat and the chest as they went tumbling down.   
  
Her eyes took a quick sweep to the bottom floor and moved her gun to the targets, scattering the rebels in cover as she settled against the wall on the opposite side, gunfire chunked away at her cover as she took a step back and another breath to calm herself. Okay, she could figure this out…they were mostly down there-

Except, they weren’t. She didn’t notice that there was a door on the far end of the hallway…but it made sense. Obviously there had to be multiple ways to get in and out of a warehouse that was probably used for shipping, if Elena hadn’t been so focused she could have gathered that. She couldn’t worry about that now; the door was already opening, and Elena couldn’t move any closer for fear of getting shot in the interim.  The Materia on her bangle started to glimmer ominously as fire arched along her fingers, she didn’t wait long to hurl it across the hallway in a screaming fireball. The man who opened the door was set alight in magical fire as he screamed in pain and backpedaled, tumbling off the railing to his death.  
  
More footsteps, more people coming up the stairs. Elena glanced back behind her to see another door, but that would leave Sturm by himself. No, she had to hold her ground.  She’d just have to risk it, there was no other way.  Back towards the staircase again, she could already hear the shouting to go around and find another way up, she had to be quick.  
  
They were piling in, she didn’t get there in time to get the drop on them again as the first man turned and pointed his rifle at her in a half-raised posture out of surprise. She jerked her gun forward, using the bloody spike to parry the gun to the right and up as Elena’s knee slammed into his groin and he kneeled over in pain, she held out her rifle and fired over his back, putting two rounds into the next man as she curled her arm around the groaning rebel and backpedaled as he shuffled with her.  He dropped his rifle and spun, slamming her into the wall as she grunted in pain and slammed her knee into his face, the impact left a sharp _snap_ of a broken nose as he slumped down to the ground in misery and Elena put a round in the back of his head in frustration. She could only jam herself against the side of the wall and spray her gun down the hallway when more arrived, two men went down, more were coming through the hallway.   
  
She kept firing, her gun roaring death in the warehouse as her other hand twitched and danced with the arc of magic. Four minutes, more realistically it was three when they hit the warehouse. There were only so many ways to reach her and Elena had all three covered.   
  
Her suit felt like armor, the adrenaline was making her fingers shake. Her thirty rounder had long since been used, and she was running low on ammo. But now it was painfully silent, she could hear the talking and shifting on occasion but now…now they were afraid. Was this what it felt like to be a Turk? She shifted somewhat closer to her bullet addled corner and was rewarded with a faint spray of gunfire. Elena returned it before bolting across the walkway and sliding to a stop near the entrance to the office, Sturm was still in there and curled up against the wall with a scared, wild-eyed look.   
  
“Have fun yet?” Elena said with a shaky breath as she checked the rounds left in her magazine. Five, plus one…shit.  Between all the shooting, the occasional grenade and magic she had been running on fumes.   
  
“A blast,” Sturm said with shaky snark. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting out of here!?”   
  
“That’s the hope,” Elena mumbled, wiping her forehead with her sleeve before checking her watch. One-minute left.    
  
“Shit, we got Shinra coming in!” She heard someone yell from the outside.  They were exhausted, and they had to be running low on ammo. Now that her exfil was coming there was no way that they’d-  
  
“Fuck, we can’t let Sturm get away from us! Let’s go! We keep that suit suppressed and get Sturm!”   
  
_Fucking Hell_.  
  
She heard them again rushing up the stairs, more than she had ammo for. She was tired from all her magic usage and really wished that these idiots would just give up. She turned sharply to Sturm, who swallowed faintly at her sharp, weary stare and pressed a finger to her lips.   
  
She didn’t say anything, but the look she was giving promised anything but a quick death if he spoke up.   There was no possible way that she could get the drop on them, but she would take any advantage she could get. Six rounds and barely any energy left for magic meant she had to rely on what she knew better than anything: Her fists.

\--

Left, right, left.    
  
Blocked, deflected, countered. Rude’s fist slammed into her jaw like C4 to a wall as she staggered back with a choked breath, rubbing her quickly red spot. She felt the hot rise of shame and embarrassment at Reno’s snickering as Rude flexed his hands faintly, his expression ever unreadable even without his glasses under the harsh lights of the training center.  
  
Tseng and Emma were watching, she could feel her sister’s eyes boring down on her and _judging_ her like she always had. That only made her grit her teeth tighter in frustration.  
  
“You’re too impatient,” Rude said passively.  
  
“Way too impatient,” Reno smirked. “Chill out, Elena…we’re not trying to kill each other here.”  
  
“Unlike _you_ , I take this job seriously,” Elena said sourly. “I just got surprised, that’s all.” She mumbled, toes sinking into the training mat as she settled into her stance again, eyes narrowed in determination.   
  
“One more time.”

\--

Sturm didn’t have time to say anything, the moment the first man stepped in and gave the room a casual sweep was when Elena shot forward like a wolf on the hunt. Her palm slammed into the forearm of his rifle, jerking his grip to the side. His eyes widened in shock before Elena silenced him with another palm strike into his adam’s apple as the rebels scattered in surprise, and she fumbled for the man’s belt to draw his pistol. That gave her a momentary pause to see her options: Two on the right, three on the left.  She gripped her wayward hostage by the shirt and jerked him to the right as gunfire slammed into the back of his plate carrier, she shifted her posture and turned, holding him up by her back as she took aim at the two now facing her and fired, two quick shots to the center of mass sent them to the ground. Not dead, but not alive enough to matter.   
  
She shoved her body shield forward then as she splintered the three left with the staggering body. She put one in the head of her wayward shield and blew out the knee of the woman to the right of her, her scream filled the warehouse as the man on her right charged forward and swung his rifle at her with a furious snarl. She blocked the incoming swing with her arm and retaliated by slamming the hot barrel of her stolen pistol into his exposed eye. He staggered back with a squeal of pain as he clutched his face.  
  
The woman she had just shot prior was scrambling for her sidearm, but Elena put her down with two more shots to the chest before rotating her aim. She fired, but the shot went wide when the main she was aiming for knocked the gun out of her hand with his rifle stock. One target, the other one was still trying to recover from the pain in his eye.   
  
She jerked back when the stock slammed across her jaw, spraying blood along the concrete as the man advanced, pinning her against the wall as he pressed the receiver of the gun against her throat.  
  
“Fucking Shinra pig!” he spat furiously at her as he grounded the steel into her throat. Elena choked out in frustration, hands fumbling with the man’s gear before she got a grip on his vest and jerked him forward, long enough to slam her knee into his groin and shove him off. She didn’t have time to correct her breathing, even if it could have helped. She was a half-step into his personal space with a right hook, his swing back was haphazard as she caught his wrist and jammed her palm upwards into his elbow as hard as she could.  
  
The _crack_ was as loud as his cry of pain as his arm bent upwards and she slammed her elbow into his throat and swung her other arm around to slam against his nose. By now, the other man had recovered with a bloody eye as he rose up his rifle and opened fire. Elena jerked sharply to her right as her former target was punctured with bullets and advanced, her face settled in grim determination. By the time he could reorient, the rebel felt a horrifying pain in his side as Elena’s fist slammed to the right of his ribcage, pain rippled across his body as his vision swam horribly as Elena struck him across the face…and promptly pushed him over the railing.  
  
Elena waited a long moment, tensing when the doors came up and in came her rescue unit. She almost collapsed then and there if she didn’t recognize the stern eyed blonde in the front with pistol in hand.  
  
_Son of a bitch._  
  
It was fairly cut and dry after that, Special Forces rounded up the bodies and Sturm and loaded him in. Whoever the rebels were didn’t matter now when they were all dead, but it was clear Sector One wasn’t as safe as it came off.  
  
To say that the APC was cold between the two sisters was saying that Shinra was shady, the soldiers stuck with them had little choice but to act as if they weren’t paying attention as Emma handed Elena a water bottle, which she accepted after some time.  
  
“You okay?” Emma asked.  
  
“Fine,” Was the sharp, terse response as she gulped down half the bottle of water in one swallow. Just fine, not like she wanted her sister of all people to come bail her out and see her giant failure she had turned out to be. But she had completed it, didn’t she? She didn’t need anyone checking up on her, she could handle herself fine!  
  
“So I can see,” Her sister responded in turn, flat and somewhat amused. Ugh, she _hated_ that more than anything. That ‘better than you’ tone that seemed to sink into every word- “I’m glad you’re meeting Tseng’s expectations of you.”  
  
“…Naturally,” Elena grumbled, feeling her face heat up just a little. “Has he said anything?”  
  
“No,” Elena always was an excellent student, but she had a lot to learn about being a professional. “You’re supposed to report to him about this later, remember?” Emma slid a hand through her hair absently, letting out a light sigh.   
  
“…Right,” She did not remember, at all in fact. Mostly because she was too busy being shot at and fucking up her own case to really think about proper protocol.   
  
“Nice work.” Elena’s eyes glanced up from their place on the floor, staring at her sister with an expression that almost made Emma look worried.  
  
“…Elena?” she said curiously, brows arching.  
  
“…What did you say?” Elena mumbled after a moment, her voice wary and confused.   
  
“…Nice work?” She tried again after a moment. Elena settled back a moment, staring Emma as if there was some great punchline that she was waiting for and couldn’t see.  
  
“…That’s it?” That couldn’t be it, that was never it.  There was always some…commentary, or…or criticism. It wasn’t just ‘nice work’, it was always ‘nice work, but- “  
  
“Yes, nice work.” Emma repeated, almost slower. “Are you okay, Elena?”  
  
“Fine,” Elena mumbled, not able to properly process the naked _joy_ of something she hated so much. Her sister thought she had done a nice job? Did she even know what happened? Whatever the case was, she was silent for the rest of the ride. How could she even begin to tell this to Tseng?  
  
 She was hoping that the silence would give her time to find something that she could tell her new boss that he would find suitable. But, Tseng always seemed like he was so hard to really placate that way. Would she just be honest? After all the things she said to him about how she’d be the best Turk he had ever seen? She was so caught up what she would say and how she would say it when they returned to HQ that she looked a shell-shocked ghost.  This was it, wasn’t it? This was how she lost the best position she could ever have, because she wasn’t nearly as clean or as precise as Reno, or Emma…or any of them.  
  
Ugh, how could she be so stupid!? No, Elena. No.  You wouldn’t give up the best position you’ve ever had like that. You would go in there, head held high and accept your mistakes and show him that she could do better. By the time she was at the 52 nd Floor (Whoops, that was a secret), she was full of false courage and confidence to approach her boss, the strong eyed and immaculately handsome Wutaian man that spoke so sof-…no, Elena. _Focus._

She was somewhat grateful that most of the Turks were out on duty, which meant Tseng was there often. On occasion he went out himself, she knocked firmly on his door and cleared her throat. “Sir, Elena reporting in for a debrief.”  
  
“Come in,” Tseng replied, and Elena opened the door to step inside. She hadn’t cleaned up yet, she was sweaty and tired, and she probably looked like a poor excuse for a Turk…but she would do this. She walked confidently up to his desk and stood at ease.  
  
“You had to call for an exfiltration to a simple capture,” Tseng started, leaning back in his chair.   
  
“Yes sir,” Elena murmured. “I was following him to a coffee shop for um…coffee and I thought I had…well, I thought I had good cover sir.”  
  
“But you didn’t,” he replied, and the words felt so heavy on Elena’s shoulders she had to struggle to maintain her focus as she stared at Tseng. She knew better than to look away, to show her shame or her humiliation.  
  
“No, sir…I was…accosted from behind and lost my focus which triggered the shootout at the coffee shop, and…the warehouse.” Elena confirmed. “I am ready to accept any punishment that you may give me, sir…my behavior was unsuitable for a Turk-“  
  
“Was it?” He asked coolly, in a way that made Elena’s skin crawl…and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “What were the parameters for the job I assigned you, Elena?”  
  
“Sir, to evaluate and survey the movements and actions of William Sturm and take any procedures necessary as I saw fit to place him under our jurisdiction, um…sir.” Elena said after a long moment of thought, and Tseng’s eyebrow arched up just a fraction.  
  
“So, did you take action that you thought was necessary, Elena?” he asked, head cocked a fraction as Elena felt her face heat up. How was she so _stupid_ _all the time_?  
  
“I…well, yes…sir.” She stammered finally.  
  
“Then there is no issue, you’re dismissed.” Tseng said. “Good work, I expected nothing less.”

In an instant, she felt the stress burn away by shock and surprise and she tried not to look as if she had ever been genuinely complimented. But that failed miserably as she grinned wide and lost all sense of the deeply built in military protocols.  
  
“Thank you, sir! I won’t let you down again!” she assured, turning briskly to leave. She couldn’t believe it! She really did do a good job! Tseng said so, so did Emma! Emma of all people! She was so happy, she didn’t pay attention to where her feet were going, and her toes jammed right into the sill of Tseng’s office door and started to fall. Scrambling to regain her footing, she gripped the nearest hard surface and caught the stack of paperwork and sent it scattering everywhere with her.  
  
…She was _so_ glad that she wasn’t facing Tseng when any of that happened as she quickly rose up. The situation was not made better by the arrival of her sister, and Reno and Rude.  
  
“…Elena,” Tseng said behind her, making her stiffen. “Please clean up your mess.”  
  
“Y-Yes! Yes sir! Absolutely! Um…” Elena said, shifting the papers quickly. “I think these go…I mean…”  
  
“…Your sister, huh?” Reno smirked. “Good thing she’s talented.” This was their new blood, huh? Someone who could do her job at the drop of a hat but could barely walk on her own two feet? Standards must have dropped.  
  
“Yes,” Emma said, watching her fidget over the papers with a light smile. “Good thing.”  
  
  


 

 


End file.
